


Right Down Center

by ForevermoreNevermore



Series: Flock [2]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Angel Stiles, Established Relationship, Grooming, M/M, Massage, Wing Kink, Wingfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-20
Updated: 2013-05-20
Packaged: 2017-12-12 09:03:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/809795
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ForevermoreNevermore/pseuds/ForevermoreNevermore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Derek asks the important questions. Could say, he touches on the important topic. Or just touches. Really, Derek's kind of losing it already there's no point in pretending he's sane anymore.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Right Down Center

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so glad everyone liked the other Angel!Stiles so much! This one isn't really connected, so if you haven't read it then don't fret! I'm really coming to love the little feather ball, so I hope you enjoy this story. :)

Derek is met by one of the more unusual sights he's seen when he pops in through Stiles' window. There's a pile of structured feathers on the bed, wrapped and twisted around so that Stiles can stare at them, shirtless and so pale he seemed to glow. Those long fingers thread through the feathers as the kid mutters under his breath the entire time, eyebrows sometimes joining in on his diatribe. Occasionally he flicks something away with a shrug, and others he just makes sure that the feathers are equally separated before smoothing them down and nodding at them with pride. The downy of the feathers bunches up between his fingers and occasionally there's a shudder and a half-lidded gaze and that was precisely the moment that Stiles glanced up and noticed Derek hovering by the window. 

Stiles give a full body flinch, but didn't make a sound. The wings snap to his back so fast that a feather or two spirals to the floor. He smiles, flushed.

"Hi." Derek bites back what could've been a full on grin and sits at the foot of the bed.

"Grooming?" Derek asked, and he can hear the laugh on the edge of his voice. The wings come unhinged a bit and Stiles' smile turns towards- was that sheepish?

"Yeah... they tend to shift when I get angry. Or excited. Or even happy and-" Derek could hear the wings rattling along with Stiles' words, seemingly on beat with the mindless thrum of his fingers. One of those slow, languid smiles spills over over Derek's face, widening until Stiles peters away as his right wing dips and covers his arm like a cape. He notices the smile and his face turns suspicious.

"Whaaaat?" Derek straightens a bit and raises his hands in what he hopes is a placating gesture. Stiles just snaps out and grabs one of the hands, fingers intertwining (somewhere in the back of the alpha's mind he wondered if he was getting too domestic for his own good, but at the end of the day he couldn't give two shits). The suspicion was still playfully flitting over Stiles' face. 

"Nothing." Derek gruffs, because he has a reputation to keep. So Stiles has a cute pout? It's not the sort of thing a civilized werewolf goes around spouting out. So Stiles has a cute everything? Didn't want the kid to get a big head (see: bigger). Then the wings fluttered lightly as Stiles' expression slips from suspicious to the renowned Stilinski "I-know-you" look.

As the silence stretches, Stiles returns his fingers to his wings, administering a sort of grace that Derek was surprised by. He weaves through a splotch of black, and one of them twirls down onto the bedspread. Stiles pulls a face.

"God. It's almost molting season. You ever seen feathers this big molt? Yeah, it's not pretty. I get little pricks all along my back for like a month. Not that I don't see little pricks everyday at school, but still." Stiles explains, eyes never roving from his job. It was the singular concentration that Derek had come to associate with big-bad-shit-is-happening-and-if-you-don't-figure-it-out-we're-all-steak.

Derek wants to ask if there are any other troubles with the wings. Actually, that's just a snowflake on the iceberg of all of the things he wants to ask the angel. If your wings are invisible, are the fallen feathers too? How old are you? If I rub the spot between your wings will you purr like a cat? Can you fly? If you-

"You're buzzing." Stiles says with a small smirk, eyebrows crooked as he casts Derek a side-long glance with his head still crooked over his work. The fingers have stilled. 

Derek tries to shrug it off nonchalantly. "Just curious. I've never met an angel." 

Stiles smiles and leans forward on his hands, crouching forward almost predatorily. He waggles his eyebrows. "Or maybe you have."

"If all angels are as trouble-prone as you are, no. I've never met another one." Derek returns, a tad sharp. 

Derek could've blinked and missed the flush that dashed over those pale features. "I'm, uh, a special case." Then he gives an uncomfortable wink. "You should see the trouble I could attract if people knew I was an angel."  

Derek doesn't like the small challenge in the words. "Then it's a good thing you don't tell anyone." 

Stiles shifts uncomfortably and goes back to plucking at his feathers. "Well, those jock-heads back in that alley know something's up. You know, and I still don't really know the implications about that." Derek feels a rush of warmth, the one associated with being in on a secret. 

"Why didn't you just kill them?" Derek asks. 

"I'm, uh, kind of on contract." 

"With who?"

"Who do you think an angel goes on contract with? Woody Allen?" Derek sniffs and gives Stiles a harsh look. The angel just returns it. "I'm under contract that I won't kill anyone while I'm on Earth. I'm the Good Fairy Glinda. And, since I can't be killed by normal methods, to show I'm an angel to get out of a sticky situation would also be a way to show what I am. Then, they could kill me. You don't want to date a Stiles-kebob do you?"

"So your method of rescue is to wait until the pack- until I've, risked my life to save your ass?" Derek barks, low enough that it rumbles and loud enough that it makes Stiles sit up straight. The angel's expression slips from nervous to shocked, his jaw dropping as it does, tongue playing absently against his bottom tongue. 

"The pack. You." His jaw's still working as it to catch up with his own thoughts and Derek feels something dark rumbling in the distance. Finally the words form and Stiles smacks back down to Earth. "As long as I'm alive, you will never die. Derek... if I can stay alive, I can keep you alive." It's a strange thing, seeing the, quite literally angelic, sincerity marring his face. Stiles draws close, and it's like that own special kind of light that the kid controls dissipates the harsh feelings. Derek's left scrambling. "I can do so much good for you."

Derek doesn't want to say that he already has.

"As long as you don't get turned to Angel Food Cake?" Derek offers lightly, enjoying the sincerity slide into that beaming smile Stiles gets when Derek makes a joke at him. 

Stiles agrees. "As long as I don't get turned into Angel Food Cake." With a smile, he picks up one of the larger black feathers and tucks it behind Derek's ear. Derek growls, but he just knows it has no effect anymore.

Stiles smiles, pleased with himself, and leans back against his pillows. For a moment his wings tuck uncomfortably behind him, but then they puff out with an explosion of feathers. Derek sputters as one lands in his slightly open mouth. 

Stiles is sheepish but unrepentant. "Hey, I get to be myself around exactly one person. Give me a break." 

Derek motions with his hand for Stiles to come closer. He does with hardly a thought, and from a a tilted head looks up at Derek through his eyelashes. He bumps at Derek's chin and Derek smiles into the hair before quickly tooling it away for another day. He puts a hand behind the angel's neck and lowers it, successfully laying Stiles out flat on the bed. He huffs into the bedsheets.

"If you wanted to suffocate me I can think of at least ten better ways." Derek thumps him on the nape and kicks a leg over Stiles' hip, settling carefully into the dip of his spine. Stiles jerks with a bitten back yelp and now Derek allows himself to smirk.

Derek puts his palms right above where his thighs lay, and begins to knead. Fingers dig into the still, pale skin, rough against porcelain smattered with constelations. He traces the small splotches with his eyes and can track out Andromeda and the Big Dipper, the Little Dipper situated right at the delicious curve of his shoulder blade dipping into the juncture of his wings. And there lay the map of Derek's plan. Stiles turns his head so he can actually breathe, eyes closed and small smile playing across his lips.

"If I would've known this-" the wings sputtered from their blissfully wilted position "was all it took to turn you from Sour-Wolf to Gummy Bear I would've done it ages a-" the words spun up into a- quite honestly- pornographic moan as Derek ran a finger down his spine between junctures of his wings. Stiles' body arches up and the wings smack up so fast they beat Derek upside the head and flips him into the carpet. The bark stops in his throat.

Stiles carefully peers over the edge of his bed, face flushed and smile bright, but still unapologetic. "Next time, warn a guy?"

"And miss out on that reaction? Why would I ever?" And not even Derek can tell if he's being sarcastic.


End file.
